Maven twists and turns in his sleep one night.
His breathing is uneven and he mumbles as his eyes shift behind his lids.
With no warning, his palm slams down on his mat.
It cracks where his hand made contact.
The cracks begin to splinter off forming into a web.
Maven sees what he has done and rolls off it quickly. He watches as the woven material breaks down into nothing, originating from his cracked palm print.
He holds his left hand in his right as he crouches on the bare floor.
"Kaida."
The name shoots through his head like an arrow meeting its target.
She was the last piece of his puzzle.
But for now, that's all he had. A name and a face.
———————————
One afternoon, Pracxedes invites Maven on an escapade.
They hike far out into the desert, until they meet a great mound of rock.
It is the yellow colour of raw sulfur and stands out against the monochromatic orange landscape.
They climb to the top, using certain pitfalls and ridges.
Once at the top, they sit with their legs hanging off the edge.
The view is so peaceful.
There is nothing out there for miles except sand and a few sprinkles of lonely desert trees.
They are dry and hard, the roots leaching far under the surface, fishing for fresh water.
"I loved the destructive nature of fire. I thought it was the perfect element for me. But it was more than that. People say water gives life, but in my opinion, so does fire. What would we be without it? Far more primitive, that is for sure."
Maven mourns for his lost ability.
"Now I truly have the power of destruction itself. I don't give things life, I take it. At first, I thought it was only living things - plants and bugs and lizards. But it is everything. Everything I touch."
Pracxedes just listens.
Everything is covered apart from his almond-shaped eyes.
He hands Maven a canister of water.
"You can control it?"
Maven nods.
"Yeah, I've been...learning. Learning it."
Over 2 months, Maven had been training.
"Pracx,"
Over time, Maven had developed his own nickname for the Chief.
"This is why the townspeople fear me. Why some of the Elders don't want me here. You all must have known. Ever since I woke, they call me Angelus Mortuum. Some are more informal, they just call me the Cursed One."
Pracxedes shakes his head, and by the way his eyes crinkle, he is amused.
"It does not seem to bother you at all."
Pracxedes notes.
He leans his head back, closing his eyes before speaking again.
"There is a prophecy. Someone is coming who will cause great pain and cover all the Kingdoms in death and darkness. They think it is you. It could be...it could not be. Prophecies can be misleading."
YOU ARE READING
𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐄
Romance[Completed - Book 3 of the Blood Court Series] ❝ You manipulated me. Did you think I would be happy? To see you sit on my throne. The throne you stole from me, while you let me die. Me...
